


Let's pretend it didn't happen

by rhettmclovely



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hand Jobs, M/M, i need to stop with the hand jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 09:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhettmclovely/pseuds/rhettmclovely
Summary: They’re expected to walk in on each other with their hands on themselves every now and then. But they’re also expected to stop, when one of them is walked in on.





	Let's pretend it didn't happen

Link’s been doing great the whole semester. This exam doesn’t even count that much. He’s pretty much set. But there’s this one exercise. This one stupid exercise he can’t seem to solve. And if he can’t solve it does he really know everything? What if the exam is just exercises like this one after the other?

 

If he could actually hear the logical part of his brain he’d realize that it is going to be okay, that it is okay, but he can’t. Not over the sound of his heart about to beat out of his chest.

 

It’s well past dinnertime. He ate nothing but 2 granola bars and an old apple, because he didn’t think he could spare the 15 minutes it took him to grab something from the cafeteria. He feels like his brain is fried. Every time he tries to do the equation over, he ends up with the same exact result.

 

He’s given up on the desk. He’s lying on his back, in bed, under the covers, and it takes him redoing the exercise two more times, before he finally gives up.  He rubs his temples and scratches his goatee, before throwing the textbook off the top bunk, for good measure.

 

Link tries to think of something else, of his other courses, of what he’s going to do during the holidays, of how he should call his dad, just to check on him, but his brain keeps coming back to that fucking equation.

 

He takes a deep breath and he finds his hand tracing the waistband of his grey sweatpants. It’s not that he’s horny or anything, it’s just that it might help take his mind off of this goddamn exam. Plus, it’s a rare event to be alone, in a dorm room. Rhett’s off to some late lecture that is supposed to last 3 years and it might actually be nice to get to jack off outside of the shower for once, without having to bite chunks out of his forearm to make sure he doesn’t make any noise.

 

He lets his hand slip into his pants. His dick twitches with mild interest, when he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly. He sits up in his bunk, his head grazing the ceiling, and fishes a bottle of lotion from Rhett’s bedside table, not without almost falling head first into the floor.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to get hard, and to start picking up the pace, as he kicks his sweatpants off and the beads of sweat start to roll down from his bleached hair to his forehead.

 

He hasn’t done this in a while. Not like this, anyway. The blanket feels rough against the skin of his thighs, but the scratching of the fabric only spurs him on.

 

With his eyes closed, he sees flashes of tits and hips and asses, he wonders how tight Amanda’d feel around him. Before he catches himself, he’s picturing gangly limbs and imagining the feel of stubble against his neck, too. Link knows Amanda’s not gonna give it up, before there’s a ring on her finger. He’ll picture her hand around him, then. He’s close. He’s so close.

 

“Hey, man! You still up?”

 

Link arms fall on either side of him. He only faces Rhett for a second, flashing him a smile, despite how mortified he is.

 

It isn’t that this never happened before. It’s bound to. It’s fine. Rhett doesn’t mind. So he pretends that, from his vantage point, he can’t see how Link’s thin blanket is tented, before he shifts and turns to face the wall.

 

“Yeah, I should be asleep already… I need to get up early tomorrow to prepare for this exam.”  Link says, his breathing still hitched, his voice coming out half broken.

 

“Yeah, brother, I’m sorry. Rest up.” He says apologetically, as he sits in his own bunk.  

 

“No, man. It’s cool. I don’t think I can sleep anyway. How did the lecture go?”

 

“It was okay. Ended up sneaking out halfway through. With Vanessa. God, she’s so fine. Got me hard, just by putting her hand on my thigh, and whispering in my ear. Then, told me she was going out with Rebecca and left me there. These girls, man.” Rhett said, giving himself a gentle squeeze through his slacks. “You know when you’re just so hard, you can’t even think straight?”

 

“Mmm” Link hummed, now lying on his stomach, his hard dick still begging for attention.

 

“Like you’d just give anything to be have them touch you? Fuck, that’s how she left me. I’m not stupid enough to think something was _actually_ gonna happen, but c’mon, give a dude something. A helping hand, huh?” Rhett says, and Link just knows the eyebrows are wiggling suggestively. “But nothing! What the fuck are we supposed to do when they won’t give us anything? Just fuck each other?”

 

Link laughs. Rhett says it as a joke. As a general statement about all the guys that good girls think want nothing but to ruin them. He doesn’t mean _them_. But Link feels his dick stir against the flannel sheet. He bites back a moan, but he can’t help himself, as he grinds against the mattress, for a second before he makes himself stop.  

 

 “I swear to God, ‘Nessa would probably be relieved if she walked in on us literally doing it.” Rhett says, with a roaring laugh.

 

Link laughs too. But he also turns on his side, facing the wall and lets his hand find its way back to his dick.

 

“Imagine that!” Rhett says, still laughing, for a millisecond Link almost feels tempted to say he has. Well, not the Vanessa part.

 

Link doesn’t listen to Rhett describe how she’d probably just tell him to meet her in the cafeteria, when they’re done, with a look of absolute relief on her face. Instead, he’s still imagining it, his face hiding against his pillow. Rhett’s rough stubble against his neck and his chest. Link’s hand on Rhett’s buzz cut guiding his mouth where it needs to be. Rhett maneuvering Link’s legs onto his shoulders as he lines himself up and…

 

They’re expected to walk in on each other with their hands on themselves every now and then. But they’re also expected to stop, when one of them is walked in on. But he can’t. It’s like he can’t physically keep his hands of himself. So he does the best next thing. He tries his best to stay still, to stay quiet, as he brings himself closer to the edge. He’s being as good as he can.

 

“Link…” Rhett whispers, and maybe he’s just checking if he’s fallen asleep or he knows exactly what is happening and he’s asking him to stop without really saying it, but it doesn’t matter; hearing him say his name like that does it for Link just the same.

 

When he comes, he doesn’t worry about burying his face into his pillow or staying still. He comes with a little moan that has no business coming out of a grown man, as he thrusts into his fist.

 

It takes him a second to come down from the high. He feels his cum, sticky, all over his hand and against his stomach. He smells the sweat and the sex in the air. He wonders how loud that “little moan” really was, without his brain screaming out nasty scenarios that are never gonna happen.

 

He can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest again. He can’t believe he did this. Not at all. Especially not with Rhett lying in the bunk beneath him. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s crossed a line he doesn’t think he can come back from. And he knows there’s no “let’s pretend it didn’t happen” with Rhett McLaughlin. He’s too wrapped up in the physical feelings to even think straight about anything so he just chances out a whispered “Rhett…”, hoping maybe he is asleep himself (wishful thinking, he knows) or that, at least, he’ll reply with something other than absolute disgust and anger.

 

Now focused, Link hears the bottom bunk creak and Rhett’s labored breath, before a moan not unlike his own, escapes his best friend.  

_Fuck_.

 

Rhett gets up and grabs a roll of toilet paper, before returning to bed. Link guesses. He can’t make himself actually look.

 

If he could, he’d see Rhett settle back against his pillow and clean himself off unceremoniously and he’d be willing to think that maybe there was such a thing as “let’s pretend it didn’t happen” with Rhett McLaughlin.

 


End file.
